Lena's breath came in quick, shallow bursts as the dust settled.
The collapse was absolute.
A jagged wall of rubble now stood where the corridor to the fourth floor had been. The last remnants of the passage still crumbled, loose stones tumbling down, sealing their fate with an eerie finality.
There was no going back.
A suffocating silence followed, broken only by the heavy, guttural breaths of the ogres.
Lena swallowed hard, gripping her staff.
This was bad.
Garron groaned, shaking off the lingering pain in his arm. He wiped a smear of blood from the corner of his lip, rolling his shoulders before planting his shield firmly into the ground. His voice came out grim and steady.
"We're being forced deeper."
Darin let out a dry, humorless chuckle, pushing a hand through his sweat-dampened hair. "Fan-freaking-tastic." His knuckles were white around his staff.
The ogres moved again.
Their thunderous footsteps sent tremors through the chamber, echoing like distant war drums.
The one in the center—the most corrupted of them all—was changing.
The pulsating veins across its grotesque body throbbed violently, swelling like writhing black tendrils under its skin. A deep, ominous glow spread from its chest, radiating outward in a slow, pulsing rhythm—as if something inside it was awakening.
Then—it exhaled.
The thick, black mist curling from its mouth deepened, darkened, thickened, spilling onto the floor like liquid shadow. The stone beneath it sizzled. The air turned sharp, acrid, charged with a wrongness that made Lena's stomach twist.
She had seen monsters. She had seen horrors. But this was something worse.
"Guys," she whispered. "We can't win this fight."
Garron's jaw clenched, his shield steady, his stance unwavering. "Then we survive it."
The ogres charged.
Their monstrous forms surged forward, the ground shaking violently under their sheer weight. The corrupted one let out a bone-rattling roar, its bloodshot eyes locked onto them like a predator locking onto prey.
Lena's grip tightened around her staff.
There was no way back.
No way but forward.
Garron's breathing was ragged, but his stance remained unshaken.
His tower shield, now marred with cracks, was the only thing standing between the advancing ogres and his retreating companions. His arms burned, muscles trembling from the sheer force of each bone-rattling impact. But he couldn't falter. Not now.
Gritting his teeth, he raised his broadsword once more and slammed the pommel against his shield.
CLANG!
The sharp metallic ring echoed through the chamber.
"Come at me, you ugly bastards!"
"Taunt."
A surge of battle intent rippled outward, unseen but undeniable. The corrupted ogres twitched violently, their monstrous, bloated forms snapping to attention as if a string had yanked them forward.
Their glowing red eyes burned with primal fury.
Then, they charged.
The first ogre—its body grotesquely twisted by corruption—raised its club high, the air whining from the sheer force of the swing.
BOOM!
The impact was deafening.
Garron braced, digging his boots into the stone as the colossal weapon slammed against his shield. The force sent shockwaves up his arms, his body buckling beneath the blow.
His legs skidded back. His shoulders screamed in agony. But Lena's Revival Heal pulsed through him, barely keeping the worst of the damage at bay.
Before he could even catch his breath—the second ogre lunged.
A massive fist, twisted and gnarled with dark veins, came hurtling toward him like a battering ram.
THUD!
The strike hit like a catapulted boulder, slamming into his shield's already weakened surface. The force lifted him off his feet, sending him skidding back several feet before he barely caught himself.
He coughed.
Damn it. They're hitting harder now.
Then came the third attack.
One of the ogres grabbed a massive chunk of the wall, its corrupted fingers melting the stone into a searing blackened mass. Then—with a guttural snarl—it hurled it straight at him.
Garron's reflexes screamed MOVE.
But he couldn't dodge.
Not when Darin and Lena were still exposed.
So he braced.
He raised his shield—CRACK!
The impact shattered the already damaged surface, sending a spiderweb of fractures splintering outward. The force knocked Garron to one knee, his breath caught in his throat as his arms threatened to give out.
Pain lanced through him. His body felt like it was being torn apart, the edges of his vision flickering in and out of focus.
But he forced himself to stand.
Lena's healing was still working, but the blows were coming too fast for her magic to keep up.
Not much time left.
Behind him, he could see Darin and Lena finally nearing the stairway to Floor Six.
Almost there.
One step back.
Another heavy strike absorbed.
Another step.
Another brutal impact. His shield was barely holding together now—one more hit, and it would shatter completely.
Still, he kept moving.
Because if he fell here, they wouldn't make it either.
Darin reached the staircase first, practically dragging Lena with him. His breaths came in short, frantic bursts.
He turned back, his grip tightening around his staff as he saw Garron staggering under the relentless attacks.
"Damn it, he's barely hanging on!"
Lena's face was pale, panic creeping into her expression. "Just a little more—"
Garron finally reached the stairway.
The air here was different.
Heavy. Thick. Unsettling.
The dampness clung to their skin, the scent of moss and something faintly metallic lingering in the air. Condensation dripped from the stone walls, which shimmered in the eerie blue glow of the dungeon crystals embedded within them. The deeper into the dungeon they went, the colder it became—not a natural chill, but something that crept beneath the skin, something wrong.
But they had no time to dwell on it.
Garron spun around, shield raised, his battered body still locked in fight mode. The corrupted ogres were mere steps behind them, their grotesque, hulking forms forcing their way through the narrow entrance.
Their eyes burned red. Their veins pulsed black with raw, unrestrained corruption.
Garron's heartbeat hammered in his ears.
"Darin—NOW!"
Darin didn't hesitate.
He whipped around and slammed his staff into the stone floor.
"Inferno Surge!"
A blazing torrent of fire erupted from the tip of his staff, consuming the entrance in a searing explosion. The flames roared to life, writhing like a dragon's breath, filling the passage with an inferno of scorching heat.
The moment the fire ignited—the ogres screamed.
Their distorted, guttural howls reverberated through the dungeon as they stumbled backward, their massive, corrupted bodies recoiling from the flames. One of them, blinded by rage, swung its colossal club at the inferno, as if brute force could extinguish fire itself.
CRACK!
The sheer impact sent shockwaves through the walls, splintering stone, but the fire didn't waver. It held firm, for now.
Darin clenched his teeth, sweat dripping from his brow. "That'll hold them for a few minutes."
Lena barely heard him.
She was already beside Garron, pressing a trembling hand to his wounded shoulder.
"Healing Frost."
A cool, blue glow enveloped him, numbing the pain before knitting his injuries back together. The gashes on his arm and ribs slowly sealed, but she could feel it—his body was at its limit.
"Lena, I'm fine," Garron muttered, his breath still uneven.
"You're not." Her voice was sharper than usual.
Garron blinked, caught off guard by the urgency in her tone.
Lena's hands trembled against his armor. "If I wasn't healing you, you'd be a pile of broken bones back there."
She wasn't wrong.
Even with her magic continuously mending him, the force of those ogres' attacks had nearly crushed him.
He exhaled, rolling his shoulders slightly. "…Thanks."
Lena just nodded, focused entirely on healing him.
Darin, meanwhile, was pacing. His gaze flicked between the burning entrance and the stretch of unknown darkness ahead.
"We need a plan," he muttered. "Because right now, all we did was buy time. If we stay here, those things are gonna tear us apart."
Garron clenched his jaw. "Going back up wasn't an option."
Darin scoffed. "No kidding."
A deep rumbling echoed from the other side of the flames.
The ogres hadn't left.
They were waiting.
Lena swallowed hard. "We have to keep moving."
Garron nodded. "Agreed. But deeper into the dungeon means more danger."
Darin gripped his staff tighter. "And staying here means certain death. So unless you've got a better idea, big guy—"
WHOOSH.
The flames flickered.
For just a moment—they thinned.
Darin's stomach dropped. "Shit."
Lena's breath hitched. "They're…breaking through."
Garron inhaled slowly, steadying himself. His shield still trembled slightly in his grasp, but his resolve never wavered.
"No time to argue, then."
He turned toward the dark, unknown corridors of Floor Six.
"…We move. Now."
The flames behind them roared again, a swirling inferno consuming the passageway. Sparks leaped across the walls, casting flickering shadows that danced with the twisted shapes beyond the fire.
But the corrupted ogres did not stop.
Their guttural snarls rumbled through the dungeon, deep and inhuman, vibrating through the stone. The creatures were still there.
A monstrous impact shook the cavern.
The very walls trembled as something massive collided against the stone, the force so immense that dust rained down from the ceiling. The ogres were breaking through.
But Trinity Blade couldn't stop.
The corridor ahead stretched into endless darkness, the eerie blue glow of the dungeon crystals barely illuminating their path. Each step forward felt heavier, the weight of something unseen pressing down on them.
The air was thick and oppressive.
It wasn't just the usual dampness of the lower floors. It carried something else—something unnatural.
Lena's breathing hitched. A foreboding chill curled around her ribs, squeezing her lungs. A creeping sensation slithered across her skin, as if unseen hands were clawing at her very being.
Something about this floor felt... tainted.
Something was watching them.
"Faster!" Darin hissed, his voice barely above a whisper, as if raising it would summon whatever lurked in the darkness.
He broke into a full sprint.
Garron was close behind, his shield still gripped tightly, his steps heavy but unwavering.
Lena pushed herself forward, her legs burning, her breaths ragged. She had already drained so much mana healing Garron, and exhaustion was creeping in.
But they had no choice.
Because the sounds behind them weren't fading.
WHOOSH.
A sudden gust of wind rushed past them—except it wasn't wind. It was the sheer force of something massive charging through the fire.
Darin stole a glance over his shoulder—and swore.
"They're still coming!"
Through the flames, the ogres emerged.
Their hulking forms were wreathed in fire, their charred flesh bubbling, blackened veins pulsing violently.
They should have been dead.
The burns were horrific—flesh melting off their bones, smoldering embers glowing from within their wounds. But before their eyes, the damage was reversing. Their twisted flesh was stitching itself back together.
Lena's heart pounded.
That level of regeneration...
It wasn't normal.
It wasn't just dungeon magic.
It was—
"Miasma," she whispered.
Garron and Darin barely heard her, but the word lingered in the air, a name given to the worst kind of corruption.
Lena had read about it in ancient texts.
Anomalies in magic. Distortions of mana. A force that warped living creatures into something unnatural.
It had been nothing more than a theory—until recently.
And yet, this wasn't the first case.
Back in Dawnstead, there had been reports of corrupted beasts appearing near the town. Creatures twisted by an unknown force. The Dawnstead Knights had been investigating it, but no one had linked it to miasma. The Captain and Vice-Captain of the Dawnstead Knight had their suspicions.
But Trinity Blade had been far from Dawnstead when that happened.
They had no idea that what had begun there was spreading.
"Lena!"
Garron's voice ripped her back to reality.
The path ahead split into three separate corridors.
A three-way crossroads.
Too many choices. Too many unknowns.
"No time to think—middle path!" Garron barked, making the call without hesitation.
Darin didn't argue.
The three of them veered left, rushing forward into the twisting corridor. The sound of their footsteps echoed through the tunnel, swallowed by the oppressive silence beyond.
But the second they rounded the corner—they skidded to a halt.
Because something else was waiting.
And it was far, far worse.
End of Chapter 35